"Ban det tu Viet Cong?!" The Seargent held the end of his riffle directly into the face of the young vietnamese women. The smell of burning flesh was filling the place. They had set the whole village on fire, as the Searge had commanded. That's just how the military works. If you get an order, you carry it out without questioning. No matter what...

'Rabbit' didn't like this whole philosophy at all, but here he were. In the hell of friggin' vietnam. He knew he didn't belong here. He didn't even really get what they were here for. In his eyes war was only an considerable option if ones country was in danger. And this was definitely not the case here. These were just some misguided red "chinks" with kalashnikovs messing up their dumphole of a country. How could they ever threaten the U.S.? No way, that was how.

But obviously president Nixon thought this was one hell of a good idea. - Of course... Well 'Rabbit' couldn't see HIM crawling around through all the bushes and mud over here. Politicians: To him they were which came closest to a war-equivalent of an armchair quarterback.

"Ban det tu Viet Cong?!" That meant 'Are you a Viet Cong?' in vietnamese. The Searge seemed never to get tired shouting that into the face of the young women who knelt in the mud in front of him. 'Rabbit' was not sure if his commanding officer really believed that this small maybe around twenty years or something old girl could really be an agent of the enemy forces. And he kind of meant to feel that it wasn't even much important to him.

He seemed to be more yelling out his hatred and anger against these people. He kind of could understand that. Even he had whitnessed a good friend and comrade of his fall under the merciless fire of these stubborn asians. They for sure had not much weaponry. But believe me it doesn't really matter to you if you are a soldier. Bullet is bullet. It doesn't matter to those fighting how much the weapon had costed that they fire on you. You just have to respect it. A bullet for a few cents in the wrong hands in the wrong time and your ass is toast. - Always respect your enemy... or die. That's the lesson.

He didn't even want to think about of how many of theirs the Seargent must have seen fall as he had been here since the beginning of this cursed war. The first time he had met the man had been here... - Here at the front and the young soldier wondered if this man might have always been that heartless and bitter. War changes a man. Even HE had already had to learn that.

The "chink" who had killed Hank, his old friend since basic training, would never kill anyone again. The bullet of *rabbit's pistol had spritzed the sucker's brain all over the leafs. But that had been a combat-situation. It was he or him. - Believe it or not, when it comes to your own life, you do things without hesitating which you couldn't even imagine before.

But what the Searge did (and made them do as well) in this war was several nodges up. He literally hated these people. In total. He didn't make any difference between soldiers, old people, women... Even children he killed without a blink of his eye. To him they were just scum which had to be brought to extinction. He had even brievly told us that on one night in the army-casino back in Pyeong Yeu.

But this here was simply outrageous. He had commanded the soldiers of their unit to kill all of the poor villagers and setting their straw huts on fire. And the angry soldiers were more than willing to do it.

He didn't take part. As usual he just stayed in the back, ready to give 'em back up fire if needed... - Of course it wasn't. As most of the time.

That's why they had nicknamed him 'rabbit': "You're to jumpy, to much thinking, man." - Well, might be. But a couple of the guys who had joked on him in that fashion were now already rotting in the woods of this godforsaken jungle of a country.

He'd often felt the urge to stand up to the Searge. To say something like "You can't do that, sir!" But this was like an impossable and pointless thing to do, as most of the men around were simple minded brutes who just followed their leader without any questioning.

"Bạn lá  'Việt Cá»™ng, mai dá¢m!" - 'You are a Viet Cong, whore!'

That's what the Searge shouted when he suddenly pulled the trigger of his Storm-MG. He must have hiten an arthery or something. The Blood just sprayed out of the neck of the poor young girl, into his face and all over the Searge. He immediately wiped it of. Everyone of 'em knew that vietnamese were known to have all kinds of diseases. But if the fucker was really unlucky enough to catch one of those infected with one of these, the wiping of his several wounds, which the jungle plant's throns had caused, surely woulnd't protect him from that.

Even the most ruthless ones of their unit seemed to be shocked for a sec from this completely unnecessary gruesome kill of it's commander.

"What are you looking at?!" He yelled in anger when he noticed that like all of us looked at him, most freaked out.

"She was just a fuckin' chink!"

They had not much time to think or comment his words, 'cause at that very moment, planes appeared roaring over their heads. They seemed to be spraying something out. After a few moments they simply KNEW as some colorless liquid rained down on all of 'em like a fog.

"Agent Orange...."

The Searge immediately seemed to know was this all was about. "They're spraying this shit on us?! I can't believe it!" He was obviously pissed.

"Wilkins!" He yelled over to the groups radio-operator. "Call these fuckers to withdraw!" The soldier did abruptely as comanded, but ist was much to late. The whole bunch of the group already stood just in a cloud of the liquid they had let out up there.

"Down to the river! This is agent orange. There's a rumor which says it's poisonous somehow. Wash it of your skin as fast as you can!"

If there was one thing they had learned in this war, then it was that the Searge mostly knew what he talked about. So they all ran to the little river and washed themselves, including their uniforms and everything, only leaving their guns behind. The water around the Searge went red due to his several wounds.

They were still busy washing ourselves, when the rattling started:

-Bahaaaaaram!-

Hawkins and Briel broke down were they stood, hit by uncounted bullets. Their bodies just fell and floated down the river...

"Retreat!"

The Searge just dove into the water and Rabbit instictively guessed it might be propably a good choice to follow his lead. So he did the same. He stayed under the muddy water as long as he could. Instinctively he took a look back when he emerged from the floods again:

The Viet Congs were there on the opposite shore. As it seemed they so far had killed all the rest of their group. Just the young soldier and the Searge, whom appeared out of the water right in front of him just now, were left.

"To the woods, rabbit!" he yelled.

"Move your ass, boy!" The bullets of the Viet Cong's Ak-47s were simply plowing through the earth of the shore around 'em. But they somehow miraculously made it savely into the woods.

They ran and ran, it must have been nearly 15 minutes, till their powers and breath went out and they finally took a hide between the leafs of some bushes and trees.

...